End of the Road
by atomicfirefly
Summary: John has been kidnapped. Betrayal is everywhere.
1. Chapter 1

"Watson! There has been a murder!" Sherlock yelled. Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, was busy on his new case. An ex-army captain had gone missing, only to wash up in London just an hour earlier. Sherlock was happy to accept the case, because he was BORED, and he knew Watson would be especially helpful.

As for Watson, there was no answer.

"Watson! What int he bloody hell are you doing? Get up, we have a case!"

No sign of movement, Sherlock noted after a few painfully long minutes. Deciding something must be wrong with the doctor, Sherlock ran upstairs, broke open the door, and found no one was in the small bedroom.

"Why today‽" Sherlock screamed, pacing the room with frustration. Ms. Hudson heard the screams, and went upstairs.

"What is it, dear? Has John gone dashing off to Sarah's again?" Ms. Hudson inquired carefully.

Concluding his unpleasant theory, Sherlock yelped out, "Watson has been kidnapped!

"What makes you say that? You know how energized John has been lately."

"Oh, Ms. Hudson, how nice it must be to have a simplistic brain like yours. It is so terribly obvious he has been kidnapped! Look at the window. You see the scratch marks? Good. Now look at his desk. He never leaves anything out or open, right? Well, the drawer on the top left is open, where he keeps his handgun. The intruder came in through the window. Watson, hearing this, got up and went for the handgun, but was stopped, and gagged with chloroform."

"How do you know it was chloroform, Sherlock?" Ms. Hudson asked with confusion.

"Do you smell the alcohol fermenting in the air? Well, it certainly isn't nail polish removal. Moving on, John had an adverse affect from the drug, and did not black out quickly. Therefore, he stated to thrash around, knocking over his laptop, making the scratch marks on the window's frame, and-wait! He took his phone! That's my boy, John!"

Ms. Hudson, lacking knowledge about modern technology, was dubious as to why the phone was important in finding John.

"Ms. Hudson, I put a tracking GPS on his phone. I'm going to find him. Call Lestrade and tell him-"

"Wait, Sherlock...look..."

Over on the far left corner of the tiny room, a huge yellow M was slashed across the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

Hidden away in a dark, abandoned warehouse, a man sat in an old, battered leather chair, smiling to himself and stroking his glowing phone. Completely invested in his day dream, he did not notice his assistant come into the room.

"Sir?"

"Oh! Dammit girl! You awoke me from my day dream...oh, this is about..._him_, isn't it."

"Yes, sir. He worries too much."

"Mmm. Yes. Leave me alone with my captive for now."

"Of course, sir. Remember, appointment at three. Can't turn down the Palace."

She left, her heels clicking to the tempo emanating from the clock above a large cage. Inside of said cage, John slowly pried his eyes open, energy draining rapidly as he uncovered the severity of his capture. His captive just sat on his office regal chair, cackling to himself.

"You bloody quim! Why the fuck am I in your little cage?

"Oh John! You're up! I'm glad, I was so **_bored_**. Of course, you know what that's like, why else has Sherlock kept you for so long?"

Moriarty lept out of his spinning chair, stalking his current prey. John sat in an official manner, not letting his eyes stray from the maniacal cat circling the cage.

Moriarty stopped short, just at the front of the cage. He clapped his hands together and exclaimed, "So! You're probably wondering, just like all of my other captives, "why am I here?" Well, I'll tell you! You're going to help me catch my most infuriating enemy. And you are going to enjoy it."

John snarled out, "Not now, not ever," before spitting on the expensive snake skin shoe in front of him.

Moriarty flared, eyes widening in disgust, but calmed just as quickly and whispered, "I. Don't. Think. So. Mycroft, would you mind coming out of your little hiding space?"

Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's own brother, stepped out from a small corner looking absolutely ashamed.

"I'm sorry...he was threatening me..."

"No. Don't talk to me. I can see why Sherlock hates you so much."

Mycroft flinched at the harsh words, before looking to his employer. "It's 2:30. We should leave."

Moriarty, seemingly bored, said with indifference, "A short goodbye, doctor." He left, pulling Mycroft with him, and shut the lights, leaving John to worry in darkness.


End file.
